Plastic Limitations

Poetry, Silent Observations

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:

Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.

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The Unrequited

Poetry

He loves her and I love him.
As I sit in my darkened box,
my lips are stale from his last kiss.
He loves her and I love him.
His clouded soul penetrates through me from across the room
and I shiver in instinctual anticipation.
He loves her and I love.
Moments. Emotions.
Fragments of the past six months resurface as routine prevails over me.
He loves her and I.
Forgotten. Useless.
Discarded like death delivering an orphan to a filled home,
a pseudo smile echoing the sweet words of past lovers.
He loves her and.
Ripped out from the protection of my ribs,
I am dipped in the River Styx,
as my heart beats in his chest.
He loves her.
Yet my soul doesn’t weep,
as he proclaims his love across programmed rooftops.
He loves.
In the end, it doesn’t even matter…